


a matter of chance

by interstellarbeams



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M, First Meetings, Lucy’s POV, Marriage Proposal, Regency Novel Inspired, Regency Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 06:15:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16550495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interstellarbeams/pseuds/interstellarbeams
Summary: Lucy has a chance meeting with a anguished young man in her family’s forest, it was perhaps the luckiest day of her life.





	a matter of chance

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to Gretchen and Lizzie for helping me with this fic but mostly for gushing about it! lol <3
> 
> Attempted to take a break from my “monster” fic to write something shorter and less plot driven. I wrote this in 2 and 1/2 days, maybe the quickest I have written anything. I _felt_ that inspired. :D

It was mid morning when Lucy decided to leave her books and her studying to head outside for a stroll. She told her mother, who was answering correspondence in the morning room, where she was headed, and that she would be back before tea. 

She had no idea who she was about to encounter, or what effect he would have on her life. 

The Preston’s estate had a large lawn out front and a small, hedged flower garden out back with a gate leading out of it. A dirt path, long ago trampled into the verge by cattle, or was it sheep, meandered from the gate, off into the trees behind the manor house. 

She tightened her shawl around her arms as she shivered, the sun having not risen high enough to burn away the fog bearing the morning’s chill. The birds chirped and called to one another from the brush, while the sleepy drone of bees sounded off to one side of the path, as she followed it through the trees. 

The quiet morning was interrupted by a constant _thwack thwack thwack_ and Lucy couldn’t decide what it could be. The Preston’s didn’t hire a verderer, only a gardener to tend to the blooms and the vegetable garden. 

_Who would be out cutting down trees?_

The sound wasn’t sharp enough to be an axe hitting the hard pine trunks and Lucy, as a very curious person, couldn’t turn back, but kept moving forward toward the sound that was so intriguing.

The closer she walked the louder the sound became, but it was now accented by the grunts of the person who wielded the axe against the defenseless tree. She rounded a corner, around a rather large trunk and into a clearing where a young man stood in front of a sapling, his back to her. The sound that she assumed was of a axe hitting a tree was actually a long, piece of seasoned wood, maybe a cane, that was held tightly in the young man’s hand, so tightly held by him, in fact, that his knuckles were white. 

“What are you—“ She almost reprimanded him with a forceful tone, for attacking her family’s trees, when he turned around suddenly, the blue of his eyes cloudy with tears and his face red with the mark of a hand as if someone had slapped him.

“Are you okay?” She softened her voice as she stepped closer, her walking shoes barely making a sound as she crossed the dewy grass and locked eyes with him.

“Of course you aren’t okay, that was silly of me to ask. You’re clearly in some sort of distress, is there anything I can do?” She rambled on with nervousness, unable to quiet her tongue when the silence continued, even as he stared at her. Her heart broke to see the pain and anger in his eyes, the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen, if she was being honest, much prettier than the plain, boring brown eyes she possessed. 

The wind picked up suddenly, a rushing sound interrupting the silence as it blew through the trees. The man suddenly gasped, as if he had been running for a long while and was out of breath. She leapt forward when he looked like he was about to fall over. She had no idea what to do with a man who seemed to be in such anguish, but she wrapped an arm around his waist, as he dropped the cane, and propelled him toward a fallen log. 

A million thoughts fluttered through her mind, like a swarm of butterflies settling upon a field of wildflowers, as she tried to decide what to do with the man, who she didn’t know and apparently was unable or unwilling to speak. 

She stepped back after she finally sat him down and looked him over. His clothing was of fine quality and probably moderately expensive, if not of the finest quality. His shoes weren’t muddy but were covered in water droplets of dew as if he had just been through the trees as she had, so he must live close by. _Why, he must be a Logan_ , she finally decided… _weren’t all the Logan’s sandy haired and blue eyed?_ She thought so. 

“I’m Ms. Lucy Preston,” she finally spoke up, crossing her chilled arms across her chest, “You must be Mr. Logan. Although which Mr. Logan, I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t know the elder Mr. Logan had a son actually.”

She pressed a finger to her chin as she watched him. He finally lifted his head and pierced her with an unfathomable look. The red mark on his face had faded slightly, and she finally had a moment to search his features. His cheekbones were high and his lips full, but his intense blue eyes were almost mesmerizing and she had to force herself to look away. Staring was rude, she knew that, but it was like she couldn’t drag her eyes away, it really was unfair that he was so handsome.

 _Why are you here?_ She wanted to ask, _What happened to you?_ but she didn’t, instead she pulled her skirts around her and sat down beside him, close enough but not too close. Even in the woods she must maintain some sort of propriety. 

They sat in silence for awhile, the wind continued to blow and Lucy was afraid that a rainstorm was on its way, but she didn’t want to leave this man alone when he was in need of her. She could offer him the company of quiet companionship, if that was what he required or maybe he just needed a helping hand or a listening ear. The sounds of his shuddering breaths finally ceased and he sighed, lifting both hands to his face, he swiped at his cheeks to wipe away the evidence of his tears. He cleared his throat and finally turned to her.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Preston, I didn’t think anyone would be out here. I thought I was alone.” 

“Oh, well… I’m sorry if I disturbed your…” she trailed off, unsure what exactly he had been doing, “whatever that was.”

He laughed, surprising her, as she raised her eyes back to his face. The smile brightened his face so that dimples stood out in his cheeks and she cursed him again for being so handsome. 

“Well, I just had a few frustrations to get out and walking wasn’t really accomplishing that goal.” His smile slowly faded as he apparently remembered what had had him so upset in the first place and she turned away, the sight of the mark on his face too much to bear. _Who would dare lay a hand on such a kind young man?_ She felt anger erupt inside of her at the thought of that slap having caused him so much pain. 

“Are you okay?” Lucy asked, again, interlacing her fingers and staring down at them. She wanted to make sure he was okay, but she didn’t want to seem too eager or too nosy about it.

“No, not really. My father, well— my father has married again and my stepmother, let’s just say she’s not too fond of her new stepson. We got into a disagreement and she, well,” he gestured to his face, “It’s just, she’s so different from my real mother. She was always kind, pleasant to everyone and would always comfort me when I was frightened. Of course, I’m not that little boy anymore, but my new mother, she only sees me as the man in the way of her son becoming heir, so she can be a little rough.”

“Well, that doesn’t excuse it!” Lucy felt affronted for him, “No matter how she feels about you, she married into your family, you _are_ the heir and she shouldn’t take her frustrations out on you through violence.” Heat rushed into her cheeks, at the look of admiration that crossed his face, but she ignored it. She wasn’t there to earn his admiration and any person of sense would have the exact same reaction she did to the story that he had just told.

“I’m fine really.” He admitted, picking a piece of lint off of his pants and tossing it to the forest floor, “I’ll be going away to school soon enough and I’ll be my own man then.” 

“I wish I could attend school but my mother has hired the finest tutors for my education. She wants to make the perfect marriage for me.” Lucy sighed and looked back down at her hands, “I love to read, anything I can get my hands on, but I don’t know how to tell her that I don’t want to marry.”

“Why wouldn’t you want to marry?” Wyatt turned to fully face her, his arms resting on top of his legs casually as he fiddled with a piece of grass he had plucked. 

“I’ve seen the men she has married, and I don’t want anything to do with men like them. They drink and gamble and treat their wives like another horse in their stables instead of a person with feelings. It’s frankly disturbing. I don’t want to be _owned_. I want to make my own decisions, including whether or not I marry, or to whom.”

Wyatt regarded her calmly for a minute, the gusting wind tugged a curl out of her pins and it blew across her face. She pulled it away, tucking it behind her ear and shot a wary glance at the darkening sky. 

“I like a nice game of faro now and then. I always get a rush when I win.” Wyatt teased, his smile dropping when he noticed the scandalized look on her face.

“I’m sorry. I’ve actually never played faro. My father _is_ one of those notorious gambling drunks and I refuse to be brought down to that level by a love of drink and money. If he hadn’t have married my stepmother for her dowry, we would be worse off than I like to imagine. It’s frightening.”

Lucy nodded in understanding, “I guess we both have something we’re trying to run away from.”

“It does look that way,” Wyatt picked another piece of grass and crushed it between his teeth, savoring the sweet taste of the summer grass on his tongue. 

Lucy watched him curiously, never having been a “country” girl, she grew up in the city until recently, and had never thought to try grass. She quickly snatched up a piece from by her foot and bit down on it. Wyatt lunged for her but she had already stuck it in her mouth and he laughed at the disgusted face she made. 

“I’m sorry,” He continued to laugh, as he tried to apologize, “I should have told you what pieces were good to eat. That has to be unpleasant tasting.”

Lucy grimaced, wishing she could somehow wash her mouth out or wipe her tongue off, but that wouldn’t be ladylike so she tried to keep her revulsion to herself.

“Here,” he finally stopped laughing long enough to offer her a piece of sweet grass, “try this.” 

Lucy accepted it but eyed it skeptically.

“Go on, I promise, it’s good. Trust me,” he smiled crookedly at her, with one dimple popping out in his cheek, so she placed it in between her teeth and bit down. The sweet grass tasted much better and she relished the floral taste after the bitterness of the other one. 

“Thank you.” She brushed her hands free of the dirt that had clung to them and studied him surreptitiously. His hair was in need of a barber, the bangs falling forward to his eyebrows and the back touched the collar of his shirt but she actually didn’t mind it. He looked much less stuffy than the other young men she had met. He stared off into the distance, the cloud cover overhead darkening his countenance just as much as his frown did. 

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” She asked, leaning forward to look into his eyes. He glanced over at her, the frown clearing as he stared into her eyes.

“I will be.” He finally answered, his gaze fastened on her, boldly. She blushed, convinced that his answer was more than just an answer to her question. 

She looked away quickly, jumping up as the clouds opened and rain started pouring down, trickling through the trees and hitting the ground with a quiet hiss of raindrops pattering on leaves.

“Oh,” she lifted a hand to her neck, as the cool rain hit her, every drop soaking her dress a little more, “I’m sorry. I really should go.”

She turned to run, as quickly as was allowed a young woman of breeding when he called out.

“I’m Wyatt.”

“I beg your pardon,” she whirled, her skirts already slapping against her ankles from the drenching rain.

“Wyatt Logan, at your service, Ms. Preston,” he bowed at the waist, his buff colored coat sailing out behind him in a gust of wind, a smarmy grin crossing his lips as he saluted her.

Lucy didn’t know what to say, surprisingly she wasn’t quite as shocked as she thought she would be at his cheek, but a resounding crack of thunder above their heads sent her running back to the warmth of her home and the tea that awaited her.

———

A few weeks later, Lucy decided to take a trip into town. Her mother was on a excursion to a wealthier friend’s estate for a house party and Lucy’s usual chaperone was down with a summer ague, so she picked up the shopping basket from the table by the kitchen door and headed out on her own. 

The sun shone down hot on her back as she followed the dusty road to the small town. She smiled politely at a young woman herding geese down the lane and waved at the little boy who raced by, following behind his big, black dog with a lolling tongue. She loved the summertime when she was free to do almost anything as long as she kept her hat on and didn’t grow a crop of new freckles like a “common farm girl,” which is just what her mother would say when she scolded Lucy for a hoyden.

Lucy pushed that thought away, the day was too bright and the townspeople too friendly to think about such depressing things. 

She wandered the stalls at the farmer’s market, the fresh eggs gleaming in the sunshine and the _fruit_ — strawberries, blueberries and blackberries — shone brilliantly, like colored stained glass, begging to be eaten. 

After buying some eggs that cook had asked her to purchase, she set off for her favorite place to visit — the book shop. A bell jingled overhead as she pushed open the door and stepped into the welcoming scent of new books, old parchment and ink. She nodded politely at the store owner before walking through the bookshelves filled to the brim with literature. It was like walking into a dream for Lucy, and she got lost in it as she thumbed through a volume of Shakespearean sonnets. 

She was so lost in her poetic daze that she didn’t even hear the door open again or recognize the echo of boots as someone walked her way. 

“What do you have there?” 

Lucy shrieked, dropped her book and almost lost her basket of eggs in the process.

“Why I—“ Lucy clammed up when she saw who it was standing in front of her.

“Mr. Logan, what—?” Lucy stumbled over her words. The sight of him and his closeness robbed her of thought, and she fumbled with the basket as she tried to accept the book of sonnets, that he had bent over and picked up, from him.

“I’m sorry,” he smiled down at her, “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I didn’t realize you were so caught up in your book that you didn’t hear me coming.” 

“It’s fine. I should go ahead and purchase this instead of spending my time standing in the book shop reading it, so I can get home for tea.”

“You’re leaving already,” he asked, his boyish smile fading as she moved to walk around him to the front of the shop.

“Oh, I’m sorry. That was rude of me,” Lucy attempted to press a hand to her forehead and forgetting she still held the book of sonnets, she almost whacked herself in the face with it. 

“Here, let me,” Wyatt took it from her and placed it under his arm, as he escorted her to the store clerk’s desk and paid for the book out of his own pocket. She tried to protest but Wyatt would hear none of it as he watched the clerk wrap the volume in paper before handing it over to them. 

They wished him a good day as they left the shop and walked out onto the street. Wyatt offered his arm and she took it after only a moment’s hesitation. She wasn’t afraid to be seen with him despite his father’s reputation but she _was_ afraid of what her mother might do if she found out she was strolling down the street, in public with a young man. Everyone would think they were courting and _that_ news would definitely get back to her mother, but Lucy found she didn’t care when he smiled down at her and complimented her complexion. She blushed and turned away, pleased that he thought her pretty but not exactly sure how to act around him especially with the burgeoning attachment she was starting to feel towards him.

They crossed the street, her hand tucked in his arm, the beautiful day she had so keenly admired earlier was ignored for the wonder of his companionship. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in town before. I was surprised when I saw you walk into that bookshop and I had to come speak to you. That was why I scared you, it was unintentional but I was just so excited to see you again.” He looked away, a blush coloring his cheeks. He was probably embarrassed that he had revealed his excitement to her but she felt a warm glow in her belly at the thought. 

Lucy squeezed his arm, trying to reassure him, that she didn’t begrudge him his feelings. 

“What were you doing in town?” She asked, finally settling on a topic that wouldn’t embarrass him. 

“Oh, I went to pick up a letter I have been expecting from my grandfather. He’s the one paying for my schooling, actually.”

“Well, that’s very kind of him,” Lucy beamed up at him, trying to ignore the fact that they were nearing her home and she didn’t want her time with him to end.

“It is. He’s a great man. I aspire to be like him, he’s honorable and trustworthy. He knows how to handle business smartly and he is kind to every single one of his subordinates. Unlike my father…” Wyatt trailed off, his face clouding with shame.

“Wyatt,” Lucy stopped him, pulling on his arm when he tried to continue walking, “you are not your father. I hardly know you but I can tell that you are kind and thoughtful. You feel too much all at once, that’s all. Everything will be alright, you’ll go to school soon, get your degree and then you will be your own man. With your own money, your independence… just imagine it.” Lucy looked up at him, a shy smile curling her lips, “You believe me, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do,” Wyatt nodded, “You seem the trustworthy kind, just like my grandfather.”

Lucy pretended offense, “I hope I don’t seem like an elderly gentleman, to you.” 

Wyatt smirked slowly, as he glanced down, his eyes showing appreciation as he looked her over. Lucy wanted to blush, but she stuck out her chin instead, daring him to compare her to a grandfather again. His eyes darkened and she wanted to step back, the unfamiliarity of his look making her nervous and yet, she felt a jolt of excitement in her stomach. 

A horse in the field next to them snorted suddenly, and made her jump. She almost cursed, a word that she had heard her mother’s husband yell when he had dropped a poker on his foot once, but she held it in. Wyatt’s eyes lit up with mirth but he bit his lip to hold in a laugh when she glared at him in annoyance. 

Lucy huffed, embarrassed that she had been scared so easily and twice in one day, but she was more embarrassed for Wyatt to see it. _He must think I’m a ninny_ , she grumbled to herself, as she strode off toward home. Ignoring Wyatt who followed behind her and tried to apologize for laughing. 

“Lucy, I’m sorry. Come on, you have to admit that was funny. The horse was probably more frightened by you than you were of him,” Wyatt tried to sweet talk her but she wouldn’t hear it.

“Lucy Preston,” he called, stopping abruptly when she whirled around and whacked him with the basket that she had carried all the way from town, the eggs that she had paid for and kept safe the whole trip, cracked then leaked their sunny yolks out of the basket as her paper wrapped book of sonnets hit the dirt sending up a puff of dry dust.

“Good day, Mr. Logan,” she ground out between gritted teeth, as she retreated down the lane that led to Preston Manor. 

Slamming the door behind her she dropped her basket full of broken eggs to the entryway floor and pressed trembling hands to her face. Funnily enough she felt like crying. _Why did his laughing at her make her so angry? It’s not like he hadn’t done the same when they met in the woods and she tasted that foul weed._

Sighing and feeling angry at herself she retreated upstairs, hoping to forget her overreaction in the foreign world of her favorite novel. 

———

Lucy’s family held a party to celebrate the end of the summer and the beginning of the harvest season. Lucy didn’t see the point of celebrating the harvest when they weren’t farmers and they didn’t employ any except for the gardener who grew their cabbages and carrots, but her mother thought it was the perfect opportunity to introduce her to the notable bachelors of their town and the neighboring counties. 

_No wonder I despise this harvest celebration_ , she thought to herself, as she watched her mother’s seamstress’ reflection in her full length cheval mirror, filling her new gown with pins, it’s my mother’s opportunity to sell me off to the highest bidder. 

She despised the dress her mother had picked out as well, the pale flowing fabric seemed like a shroud to her and the thought sent a shiver of dread down her spine. _If only I could choose my own husband, he would be kind, thoughtful, with bright blue eyes and a teasing grin,_ Lucy tried to ignore the image that flashed before her mind’s eye of Wyatt standing before her, his eyes lit with admiration for her. _Stupid_ , she thought to herself, as she shook her head to rid herself of the foolish thought, her curls bouncing against her cheeks, _mother will never allow you to marry your choice of husband and that’s that._

After she was allowed to remove the dress full of pins, she retreated to her bedroom. Normally, she only slept and dressed in her chambers, but today the comfort of her familiar floral wallpaper and sheer curtains floating in the fall breeze was needed as a balm to her bruised heart.

Sighing heavily, she laid down on her bed, almost wishing her mother would come looking for her so she would scold her. Some of her restless energy would be expelled when her mother invariably picked a fight over Lucy’s “laziness.” 

Propping her hand on her chin, she traced the embroidered pattern on her coverlet with an idle finger. She had only met Wyatt Logan twice but every day she hoped to see him striding by their lane with his cane in hand, or maybe riding a horse, _did he even like to ride?_ She wasn’t sure, but she wished she knew. She wanted to know everything about him, wasn’t that strange? She had never felt that compunction before with any other young man, there was just something about him that called to her. Was it his loneliness that she witnessed in the woods that day or the friendly smile that he had offered her when he barely even knew her? 

She knew she was being over dramatic as she dropped her head onto her arms, where they were crossed on the coverlet. She almost despised herself for acting like all the young women she had know when she lived in the city, fainting at every inconvenience and acting shocked at the gossip that they had more than likely spread around… but she had never fallen into such dramatics before, maybe she was allowed just a moment of self pity. 

She lay there for a few more moments, letting tears of frustration leak out of her eyes and drip down to tickle her nose. Pushing all her thoughts of husbands and choices out of her head, she got up and crossed to her vanity to splash cool water on her face. After drying her face with a soft cloth, she sniffed once before walking out of her room and heading to the study for her lessons. 

———

The day of the dance dawned cool and clear, and by that evening the clear blue sky of the day had turned brilliant with hundreds of stars. The multiple candles gracing every nook and cranny of their home and the large parlor, mirrored the multitude of stars out that night. Lucy feared that a fire would erupt as she descended the staircase to see so many candles with wax already pooling around their bases but she kept the complaint to herself when she beheld her mother’s glare. 

Lucy wanted to shy away when she saw her mother standing with a tall and distinguished gentleman. but she straightened her back and came forward anyway. The man smiled and took her hand after their introduction, and she smiled back automatically, she promised him a dance later on in the evening and was glad to escape his presence as soon as he walked away. Her mother gave her a ‘ _be on your best behavior_ ’ glare, but she ignored it, instead focusing on the banquet table across the room where the punch bowl sat next to rows of glittering cups like shining toy soldiers, with tiered trays of sandwiches and petit fours resting alongside. 

The flash of a blue sleeve pulled her from her musings and she glanced up, her eyes immediately arrested by Wyatt, where he stood next to the punch bowl. He took a sip of his punch, his eyes smiling at her over the rim before he lifted it in a salute. 

She blushed, but was immediately reminded that her mother was somewhere close by, and if she knew her mother at all she was probably watching her like a hawk, hoping to get her claws in a suitably rich suitor for her daughter. Glancing over to where she had last seen her, Lucy was surprised to find the room quite full and that her mother was nowhere in sight.

She felt a flood of disappointment come over her when she looked back and he wasn’t there.

“Are you looking for someone?” Wyatt’s voice teased from behind her. She whirled around, almost upsetting the glass of punch that he still held, in her haste to set her eyes on him.

“Don’t frighten me like that,” She whispered, glancing behind her to make sure her mother was still out of sight. Thankfully, her chaperone was rather old and had already taken herself over to a corner armchair for a long snooze.

“I’m sorry,” Wyatt smiled down at her, “I seem to be apologizing a lot lately, although it’s usually to you.”

“No, _I’m_ sorry,” she broke into a grin when he started to laugh at her now apologizing.

“Maybe we should start over,” Lucy teased, offering him her hand like they had just now met. 

“Pleased to meet you, miss,” He bent and pressed a kiss to her hand. Lucy was wearing gloves, of course, but she swore that she felt the warmth of his lips through the cloth. She caught his eyes as he straightened back up, his gaze so intense that she almost gasped. 

The musicians began to play, breaking them out of their reverie and Lucy looked around, noticing the gentleman her mother had introduced her to, coming her way.

“Would you like to dance?” Wyatt asked, as she turned back to him, a rueful smile plastered in place.

“I’m sorry, I really am. I know it’s another apology but I agreed to dance with another gentleman,” Lucy watched as Wyatt’s face fell and she immediately placed a hand on his arm, her white glove contrasting against his blue jacket sleeve, “ _but_ I haven’t promised the next to anyone.”

Wyatt dropped his head for a moment, “Well, I guess that will have to do,” he replied. He withdrew across the room to come to stand next to an elderly gentleman. _His grandfather, perhaps?_

She felt a huge swell of disappointment at the sight of his retreating back but she ignored it for the moment as she allowed the tall man to accompany her to the dance floor. 

They danced for one song but Lucy hardly remembered it, she was afraid she had been rather rude — not paying attention to her partner — thankfully she wasn’t so distracted that she ran into the other couples sharing the floor. 

As the music came to an end and the other pairs slowly walked off to sip at punch and nibble on the refreshments that were laid out, she felt a soft touch to her hand. Turning around, she smiled genuinely at Wyatt who offered his arm to her. She took it and allowed him to lead her across the floor.

She hardly heard the music start again, she was so mesmerized by him. She felt like the luckiest and most important girl in the room when he looked at her with the candlelight reflected in his eyes. The barest glance of his hand against hers as they performed the cotillion felt like a million little lighting bolts shooting up her arm. She hoped the blush that was prevalent on her face could be explained away by the stuffiness of the room, although she barely noticed that either, she was so entranced by him. 

She would blame the whirling of her head on the many dips and turns of the dance but she knew that was not the only reason she felt so dizzy. She almost wished that they could dance the waltz, although it was still considered quite scandalous in some parts of the country, it was accepted in other dance halls. Her mother was a stickler for propriety though, and only allowed the English country dances to be performed in her home. To feel his touch consistently throughout the waltz would have been her undoing, so perhaps it was best that her mother hadn’t allowed it. 

The clapping of the observers on the fringes of the room finally brought her out of her daze and she quickly clapped along with them, recognizing the other participants accomplishment at the difficult dance. 

She had to release a breathless sigh as Wyatt crossed the small distance between them to come and stand at her side, partly because the dance had taken so much energy but she was more relieved that he hadn’t just left her on the dance floor. He did want to be near her, just like she wanted to be next to him.

“Are you alright?” He asked, a concerned frown, that she found irresistibly adorable, creasing his forehead.

“I’m fine,” she tried to play it off, but felt a rush of gratitude when he escorted her to the refreshment table and handed her a glass of punch.

“It’s about time your treated this young woman like the lady she is,” A deeper, rasping voice rang out over her head. Lucy turned to find the older gentleman she had seen Wyatt with earlier. She curtsied back when he bowed, and Wyatt shook his hand with friendly familiarity.

“Ms. Preston,” Wyatt introduced them, “Meet my grandfather, Sherwin, Lord of Longbury.” 

“A pleasure to meet you, sir. Wyatt has been telling me many things about you,” Lucy smiled up at the older gentleman with the bushy white eyebrows over blue eyes, equally as beautiful as his grandson’s, if not quite as bright.

“Good things, I hope,” He replied, a teasing grin wrinkling his face. 

“Only the best,” Lucy teased, touching him on the arm familiarly. 

The familiar scent of Lucy’s mother’s perfume suddenly clouded the air around them and Lucy felt a sudden nervous drop in her stomach, _she wasn’t doing anything wrong, right?_ Her mother surely wouldn’t berate her in front of Wyatt and his lordly grandfather.

“Lord Longbury, how kind of you to visit us,” She purred, with what Lucy knew was false sincerity, as she offered both hands to the older man.

“A pleasure, Caroline,” He took her hands in his own, as he looked her over. Wyatt and Lucy shared a casual glance, as Lucy’s mother demurred over his grandfather’s compliments. 

“I have just been speaking with your lovely daughter. She is as amiable as she is beautiful.” Lucy blushed, turning her head away when her mother speared her with a ‘ _we’ll speak later_ ’ glare. She knew her mother thought she was spending time with Wyatt and his grandfather just to annoy her and wanted Lucy to dance and flirt with the men _she_ approved of, but Lucy decided that if she wanted to be independent she would have to ignore her mother’s disapproval.

Her mother stood with her hands pressed together, her lace gloves pale against her even paler skin. There was no denying that Lucy’s mother was beautiful and elegant, but she didn’t want to just be beautiful, Lucy wanted to be smart, kind and charitable as well.

“Well,” Sherwin cleared his throat, as he rubbed his palms together, “let’s leave the two young people to enjoy the celebration. You must show me your late husband’s spirits collection, I heard he cultivated it for many years before his death. I also heard, from an anonymous personage that he had a very rare single malt scotch whisky.”

Grandfather Sherwin took Caroline’s arm, and thankfully escorted her away, all the while distracting her with talk of alcohol which Lucy knew, from Wyatt, that he didn’t even partake in. 

Wyatt smiled at her in relief, his signet ring shining in the glow from the nearby candle branch. Lucy glanced out the window, noticing the gardens aglow with moonlight and the temporary freedom that the darkness offered. 

Wyatt caught her look, a frightening and newly felt emotion filling the spaces between them, “I think, maybe a turn around the garden would do you more good than this tepid punch.”

Lucy nodded quickly, stealing her hand into his as they quickly walked out onto the open portico and down the steps. Lucy should have been worried about her reputation, but with the feel of Wyatt’s hand in hers she decided she didn’t care. He was all she cared about in that moment and it felt freeing to let all her worry go as she followed him into the cool night air.

They raced down the middle path, the smell of the late blooming roses saturating their senses like the moon lighting the trees and shrubs with an ethereal glow. Lucy couldn’t help but laugh, she felt like she was floating through the night, like a swan on a midnight pond. Wyatt’s smile flashed white in the darkness as he turned back to look at her. 

They came to a stop underneath a large oak tree with a stone carved bench underneath it. Lucy pushed a dangling curl out of her face as she sat down, this time not caring one iota that Wyatt sat down next to her with his leg touching her own. It was at once comforting and unbearable to be so close to him.

“I think it was lucky that we met in the woods that day.” Wyatt admitted, sliding his eyes over to her and then quickly retreating. 

“I didn’t know you believed in luck. Isn’t that something gamblers usually rely on?” 

“Yes,” Wyatt scoffed, running his fingers through his hair, “Gamblers rely a little too heavily on it.” 

He was quiet for a moment, contemplating, “I didn’t use to.”

“What do you mean, didn’t use to what?” Lucy asked, surprised when he took her hand in his.

“I mean,” Wyatt trailed off, as he touched a finger underneath her chin, Lucy would have gasped at the forwardness coming from someone else but with Wyatt it seemed natural to let him touch her so familiarly, “I think it was lucky for me to meet you on a day when I felt so much despair. I felt that maybe my existence on this earth was no longer needed. Until you showed up and gave me a reason to believe in the goodness in the world again. In the brightening hope of every new day.”

Lucy opened her mouth to reply but nothing readily came to mind. _How do you reply to such a revelation?_

“ _I_ \-- I knew you were in pain that day in the woods, I couldn’t leave you alone because of it. I’m glad I could be there for you. I don’t think I knew it then but I needed you too. I’ve never felt so alone since I moved from the city, than I did that day. I was in need of a friend too…” Lucy trailed off, afraid she had been rambling nonsensically.

“I found more than a friend that day,” Wyatt looked into her eyes, his gaze straightforward and frank. Lucy felt her heart skip a beat at the implication of his confession. _Did he really mean what she thought he meant?_

Wyatt moved closer, the warmth of his leg against hers had nothing on the heat of his gaze as he continued to regard her. He leaned even closer and Lucy barely had the chance to recognize what he meant to do before his hand was cradling her cheek and his lips met hers. 

Lucy knew that she should push him away for the sake of propriety but the delicious brush of his mouth against hers was too much, too sweet a temptation to resist. She gasped when his lips gave way to his tongue and a whole different sensation took over. Her fingers tightened against his shoulder as she let him lead her through the kiss, just as he had led her in their dance minutes earlier. 

He pulled away slowly and she blushed again, her first instinct was to follow his lips with her own, to beg for more if necessary. She turned her head, pressing a shaking hand against her swollen lips, the wanton feeling surprising her almost as much as the kiss had.

A dog barked in the distance followed by the creak of a squeaky door hinge and Lucy realized how late it must be. 

“How long have we been gone?” She finally managed to ask, a nervous energy suddenly filling her belly with an entirely different set of butterflies.

“Not too long,” Wyatt tried to assure her, his bare fingers tracing a line along the top of her evening glove. She pulled away, suddenly unsure what to do with herself after the experience of her first kiss. _Oh, mother won’t be happy about this_ , she thought. She stood from the bench quickly, flight being most present in her mind but she stopped herself, as Wyatt stood also.

“Lucy, I’m sorry if I offended you. You just— you looked so beautiful in the moonlight. I let my feelings overtake me, forgive me.” He turned as if to go and she grabbed him by the arm and forgetting all her manners and the decorum that she had been taught from the moment she could walk. She stood up on her toes and kissed him back. She felt tentative at first but she ignored her inexperience and wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pressed her body against his. The frantic beating of her heart rushed in her ears. Wyatt’s warm breath ghosted across her lips as he pulled back to press his forehead against hers.

“Definitely more than a friend,” He breathed out, as a laugh bubbled out from between her lips. 

 

———

Lucy set down her embroidery, that she was admittedly horrid at, when the knock came on the sitting room door.

“Yes?” She called as she sat up straighter, dusting off her lap to free it of any stray threads or pieces of lint leftover from the cambric fabric. 

“A Mr. Logan to see you, miss,” The maid replied, as she came through the door, her apron held between her hands.

“ _Oh_ ,” Lucy stood up, putting a hand to her hair, she hoped that she looked presentable. She hadn’t been expecting visitors. “Well, you can let him in, Minnie. Thank you.”

The maid bobbed a curtsy as she opened the door to let Wyatt in and closed it quietly behind her.

Lucy crossed the room immediately, the expensive rug underneath her feet silencing her footfalls, while Wyatt’s boot heels rang against the shining wood floors. Wyatt’s face lit up with delight and Lucy felt an answering smile lift her cheeks, as she offered him her cheek.

He took her hand and led her to a chair, she followed his lead, surprise and happiness warring within her. _What was he doing here? Where was her mother or her chaperone? Would they bust in on them sooner rather than later and ruin their blissful reunion?_

“Wyatt—“ Lucy faltered, as she settled into her chair, finally recognizing the unusual amount of nervousness that Wyatt displayed — tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair, rubbing a hand across his face and settling and re-settling a thin volume, that he had brought with him, against his leg. 

“May I ask you something?” He asked, glancing up at her finally. 

“Of course, you know you can ask me anything,” Lucy sat back, crossing her hands one over the other in her lap.

Wyatt paused for a moment, biting his lip. Lucy opened her mouth to offer him encouragement but closed it when he handed her the book. 

“Why, it’s my book of Shakespearean sonnets! Wherever did you find it?” Lucy smoothed the wine colored cover with one hand as she glanced up with a smile.

“Open it,” Wyatt suggested, a smile of nervous anticipation lifting his lips.

Lucy smoothed her hand over it again, the gold-edged pages shining in the light coming in through the big bay windows. Wyatt shifted nervously and Lucy felt a nervous cramp in her belly as she lifted the front cover. 

Inside, a line of the 116th sonnet was scrolled in thick black ink:

_"Love is not love which alters when in alteration finds or bends with the remover to remove...Oh no, tis an ever fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken."_

Lucy’s eyes filled with tears as she reread the line, “ _Wyatt_ …” she spoke, softly, her heart that had been beating steadily before, now galloped in her chest like a untamed horse inside a too small paddock. 

“Do you really… love _me_?” Lucy whispered, her voice lost among the many emotions that filled her heart, mind and body in that moment.

“Lucy Preston, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Tears trickled down her cheeks as she stared into the beautiful face that she loved so much. She wanted to shout “yes, I will” and fall into his arms, professing all her love for him right then and there, but her thoughts immediately went to her mother.

“Oh, Wyatt,” She stood up, crossing the room to pace the space in front of the windows. She bit down on her thumbnail as she watched the late morning birds flitting around on the lawn. She turned around, dropping her arms as her trailing skirt pulled against the thick rug, “I love you, I really do, but my mother…” she trailed off, pressing her hands to her face to cover her disappointment. 

Wyatt, who had stood when she had, like any proper gentleman would, came to stand in front of her. He pulled her hands from her face with gentle hands.

“It’s alright,” He wrapped his arms around her, as she pressed her damp cheek against his jacket, “My grandfather has spoken to your mother. She has given us her blessing.”

Lucy jerked her head up, pulling away to look up into his beloved face, her mouth opening and closing in shock, “ _but_ … how? why?”

“I thought you might be a little more enthusiastic when I dreamed of how this would happen,” Wyatt chuckled, ruefully, as he drew her back in, his hands warm against her bare arms.

Lucy reached up, rubbing her thumbs against his cheeks, she pulled his head down to hers, “Of course I’m enthusiastic about it, in fact, I’m thrilled,” she kissed him quickly, then pulled back, “but I also want to know how this happened.”

Wyatt shook his head at her curiosity but he led her back to her chair, and knelt down in front of her before taking her hands back in his.

“Grandfather, he has decided that my father is too unreliable to be his heir. He has taken me under his wing and will teach me everything there is to know about being Lord of Longsbury. And as heir, I need a suitable bride, of good birth and proper standing, that would be you. Hence your mother’s change of heart towards me, I now have a fortune that I will be more than willing to share with you, the woman I love.”

“What do you say?” Wyatt asked, his face expectant, and yes full of love. 

Lucy searched his face, his blue eyes as familiar to her as her own countenance in the mirror every morning, and she decided that his face was the first thing she wanted to see every morning: by her side in their marriage bed, across from her at the breakfast table and there to always kiss her goodnight.

“Yes, I’ll marry you.” Lucy’s face split in a grin as she felt a unfamiliar feeling welling up inside her: happiness. 

Lucy reached for him and their lips met. She smiled against them when she realized that it was just the first of many that they would share as future husband and wife.

“Are you sure you want to take a bet on me?” Lucy teased, as she looked into Wyatt’s eyes, twinkling with mischief.

“I’m willing to make a gamble,” Wyatt laughed, as Lucy tossed herself into his arms, and they spun around the room, her head dizzy once more but mostly with a gaiety that she could hardly explain. Perhaps she would leave it up to Shakespeare.

the end.


End file.
